Transcendence
by ThisIsTrueImmortality
Summary: The years between a prince's ascendence and a Firelord's supremacy can change many things, but in his heart Zuko is still the same. Beside an ornamental pond, dressed in his finest robes, he meets the one woman who remembers who he used to be. He is still not ready to accept her insight. A melancholy twist on Zutara, post-war, pre-Korra. Originally written for Zutara week.


**Author's Note: I'm leaving the country for a week and am so hyper that I'm basically climbing the walls. So, I decided to put my energy to good use and post a couple old fics before I go. This was originally a Zutara week entry, but it didn't go the way I had planned, so I just left it out. I might make it into a two-shot eventually. WARNING: When I said melancholy, I meant it.**

**Zutara is the eternal Romeo and Juliet of the A:TLA world. It is a tragic and passionate idea that has arrested my attention since I first set eyes on the two characters. **

**Song for this fic: A Hill with No Name by Yoshida Brothers watch?v=MrG42_fFu-Q**

**Enjoy!**

"So..." The wry voice spoke from behind him, warm but dry like an arid wind. He tuned his ears to the pleasant sound, the voice as familiar as the birdsong in the tree branches above him.

She continued unabashed, her voice coming closer with each word. "I come here, expecting to find you perched on that big throne of yours, and here you are, sitting by an ornamental pond." His lips turned up at her theatrical pause. "I'm beginning to think you're growing soft in your old age, Zuko."

His smile grew more broad. "Well, you know, peace, love, unity...they take the edge off my instincts."

"Ha!" She snorted. "As if _you_ could ever be peaceful, you Fire Nation poster child."

There was another fruitful pause, and then they both chuckled. "It's so good to see you again, _Firelord_ Zuko," said Master Katara, with a proper Fire Nation bow. No matter how many years went by, she still insisted on taking that teasing tone, putting emphasis on his title. Zuko found that he liked it more and more, as every trace of the boy that had ascended to the Fire Throne vanished into the flames.

Katara was, perhaps, the only woman who still saw him as _that _Zuko. He would have never thought that could be a good thing-even a relief-but it was.

"Master Katara, it is my honor to greet you in my domain," said Zuko, returning her bow. The smiles had not left their faces. Katara sank down gracefully beside him, her indigo robes pooling about her in a silk mimicry of the pond at her feet. To Zuko, it looked like she had somehow soaked her robes in his favorite blue ink.

She was always beautiful, of course. But that deep, deep indigo, the color of the best ink, made her look twice as comely.

"So, no pressing appointments, today?" Katara asked, lifting a delicate brown eyebrow. With her hands folded so demurely around a paper fan, Zuko could almost believe she was a different woman from the waterbender who could stop a man's heart with one twist of her fingers. He wondered if his stiff, unyielding robes and the weighty ornament in his hair forever marked him as The Firelord, a man entirely separate from Zuko. Then Katara tilted her head back, and Zuko gave her a lopsided smile, and the illusion faded away.

For now, she was just Katara.

"Zuko?"

He jerked, startled. "What?"

"I asked if I was keeping you from your duties," Katara said, with a slight frown.

"Oh, no, you're not." Zuko let the blossom in his hand drift into the smooth surface of the pond. A curious turtleduck paddled to the flower and pecked at it with a suspicious quack. "Even Firelords can have a morning to themselves," Zuko said, leaning forward and dipping his fingers into the water. "I told my advisors an old friend was coming to visit for a while and that I would hold an audience with her when she arrived. They know not to disturb me until I go back to the throne."

"Good." He looked up at Katara's tone. She had a look in her eyes that took him back a few years; she only put on that sort of face when she thought she was going to have to fight her way out of a situation. Here, in the relative safety of the palace garden, seemed an odd place for her to wear it. "I mean, Zuko, I've heard about the attacks," Katara went on, lowering her voice. "Iroh told us about your theories on the assassins' allegiances-"

"It's nothing serious," Zuko interrupted her with a wave. He tried to make the gesture look reassuring, not patronizing. "My grandfather always told us to expect insubordination-"

"Zuko, someone has been trying to kill you, and you're telling me that's not serious?" Katara said, sounding scandalized.

In her own fields of expertise, no one could beat Master Katara of the Water Tribe. But the murky depths of Fire Nation politics were waters she had never had to tame. Zuko knew she did not understand.

He sighed. "If they were really a threat, they would have made their move when I was first on the throne, not years down the road. I've gained a following, now. My people have come to..." He couldn't lie and say 'love.' He couldn't even say 'appreciate.' "They respect me, now. It's pointless to launch a coup when more than half the country's on my side."

Katara stared at him for a moment, then leaned closer, cutting the distance between them to a few hands' breadth. A dark flyaway from her Fire Nation hairstyle dangled between them. "Zuko, don't you think that's what your father thought, too?" Katara asked quietly, vibrant blue eyes alert and sharp as icicles.

The question sent a discordant twang through him. "That wasn't a coup, Katara," he told her, looking away from the eyes he could never deceive.

"Oh, no?"

"No."

"Then what was it?"

"That was an heir seizing control of the throne, which is totally different than an outside party trying to knock off the last of the royal family."

"Well, Zuko, you'll be just as dead, either way!"

Katara clapped a hand to her mouth, destroying the intensity of her gaze by widening her eyes. Zuko couldn't help it; he laughed. And then, once he started, it was hard to stop.

In retrospect, he should have known that the stress of imminent assassination attempts had been wearing on his mind. The first of the attacks had come at a bad time, when he had already had to scramble to balance out a bad rice crop in the main agricultural areas. He had nearly been skewered by an arrow as he sat in his council room going over the reports. For all his bravado, such a bold attack in a secure place like the council room had shaken him.

He had needed to laugh. And, as usual, it had taken Katara's odd brand of concern to give him what he needed. "Katara," he said, between laughs, "I can always trust you to tell it like it is."

"I shouldn't have said that," Katara said penitently. "I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot. You know, I get on to Sokka for opening his mouth and letting whatever is in his head just come spouting out, and here _I_ am-"

"Katara," Zuko cut in, "it's fine. I'm glad someone besides Uncle Iroh still has enough spine to speak plainly to the Firelord."

For some reason, a pretty blush colored the waterbender's cheeks. "It's not my place, anymore," she said. "We're a long way from the Western Air Temple, Lord Zuko."

"Katara, please." Zuko rolled his eyes, one of the teenage gestures he had never quite managed to forsake. "The day you seriously call me 'Lord Zuko' is the day I call Aang '_Master_ Aang'."

Katara raised her eyebrows. "You mean you don't?"

"Not now, and not ever."

"Well, someone is a little full of themselves," Katara said, putting some bite into the words. "Zuko, I think Aang deserves some form of respect from us for all he's been through-"

"I was his bending teacher, Katara; I can't call him 'master.' Besides, my respect comes in the form of treating Aang with less mind-numbing formality than everyone else does. It took me long enough to call him Aang; I'm not about to regress." Zuko cast her a searching look, pinning down what had seemed so different about the master waterbender. "Your necklace is gone," he said, nodding at her throat.

"Oh!" Distracted by the change in conversation, Katara's hands abandoned their fan and tapped the skin of her neck. "Yes, I-um-I left it with my grandmother. In the South Pole," she added, with another strange blush. "But, where else would my grandmother be?" she laughed.

She sounded so dizzyingly young in that moment that it startled him. Zuko wondered if he had been too abrupt with his observation. He bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Katara; I didn't mean to pry."

"It's a natural question, I guess," said Katara, with a smile. "After all, you and my necklace seem to have a very close relationship; you've been friends longer than we have."

"Oh, very funny."

"You're not the first one to notice, either," the waterbender said, with a huff. "Sokka kept going on and on about it when I visited him and Suki. 'Did it break, Katara?'" She imitated her brother's intonation perfectly. "'Why aren't you wearing it? Is there something you want to tell me?'"

"Well, it was sort of your trademark," Zuko chuckled, remembering Sokka's insistent nosiness with something like fondness. In the years following the war, the Water Tribe warrior had become an indispensable asset to the Fire Nation, designing agricultural plans and integrating Earth Kingdom farming techniques with Fire Nation industry. Sokka's willingness to forget his own grievances and commit to healing a broken world had amazed the young Firelord. Zuko recalled the day he had all but begged Sokka to come live in his domain, pretty much attaching himself to the younger boy and refusing to let go until he agreed to stay in the palace for a few months.

"How is Sokka?" he asked at last, pulling his fingers out of the pond.

"As wool-brained as usual," sighed Katara. "But he's getting better about keeping his wits about him, now that he's a father. Suki's had the baby," she said, with a warm smile.

"I must send them my congratulations," Zuko said, feeling an inexplicable clench in his chest. The picture of a pale-skinned, blue-eyed child appeared in his mind. Sokka's children would undoubtedly have blue eyes; the people of the Water Tribes were too stubborn not to leave their signature upon the next generation.

Katara's eyes took on a distant sheen, as if she, too, could see the child of his imagination. "Sokka would love to hear from you. He thinks you've forgotten him, you know."

Zuko shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of such a beautiful baby. "How could I, when he built my people's lives back?"

"You exaggerate," said Katara, flicking back the flyaway as it stuck to her face. "And don't ever tell him that; we'll never hear the end of it."

Zuko stared out over the garden. The glint on the ornamental pond's surface danced like white fire in his mind, and he allowed himself a moment to forget the harrowing problems facing his nation, to sink back onto his elbows in the grass. "So," he found himself saying, "_is_ there something you need to tell Sokka?"

He didn't think Katara could read his quiet tone. She shifted even closer to him, the indigo of her robes creeping onto his blood red hem. "You mean, is there another necklace that's going to replace my mother's?" When he nodded she continued, with a sigh, "Aang told me that he has the ribbon and the stone, but he hasn't carved it. Being the bridge between the nations doesn't leave much down-time for arts and crafts." She did not smile when she looked back up at Zuko. "I'm sure you can understand."

Truthfully, Zuko could sympathize with Aang's plight. Neither the Avatar nor the Firelord could afford to indulge in time to themselves; Mai had figured that out years ago, and had realized that sharing her lover with the world was not to her liking. As Zuko reflected, he realized that this audience with Katara was the first morning away from his duties in eight years. Thinking of his life in those terms, Zuko could only wonder how in the world he had survived so long in his gilt cage.

"Do you really think that 'he's busy' is a good enough excuse to keep you waiting, Katara?" Zuko asked his companion-and immediately wished he could take the words back. "It's been four years since you got engaged-"

Katara's face darkened. "I don't _really_ think it's your place to scold the Avatar, Zuko."

Snorting, Zuko turned away from her, hiding his sudden, raw emotion. "If I hadn't done so before, the world would have descended into another war."

"You've never given him enough credit," Katara protested. Even in her growing unease, she retained her balance, sitting straight and proud on the grass as if it was her throne. "Aang has become a master of diplomacy-"

"Yes, thanks to me," Zuko said, with a half-laugh that sounded bitter even in his own ears.

Katara made a rough sound in her throat. "Why are you so hard on him?"

"Because I think of him as my son, in a way," Zuko said, "and my brother in another. And my family has a history of pushing our brothers and sons on to their destinies."

The waterbender shook her head, the fine pearl netting of her hairstyle shaking with the motion. "What are you talking about, Zuko?"

"Katara, someone has to keep Aang on the ground. It just so happens that the spirits made that someone me."

"_I_ am that someone!" cried Katara, rising up on her knees in anger. "I'm his-his-"

"See?" Zuko suppressed the tension building up in his body. "You don't even know what you are to him, because he hasn't bothered to tell you. That is inexcusable of any man, Avatar or not!"

"Don't you dare talk about Aang like that!" The water from the pond began to bubble, scaring off the fish and turtleducks. Zuko almost hoped it would rise up and swallow him. It would end all the complications of his life. It would get him away from this unbelievable woman, captivating even in a flustered state.

With an effort, Zuko kept himself in check. "I will speak about Aang however I want, Katara, because he has acted dishonorably toward an honorable woman," he said, keeping his voice low. Katara did not know about the multiple ears waiting to seek out an opportunity to ruin the relationship of the Avatar and the Firelord, but he did. "He hasn't given you an engagement stone because he knows he doesn't have to!"

"That's ridiculous!" Katara cried. "Aang has never mistreated me! He's loving, and kind, and he does not deserve all this _hatred _from you, Zuko!" She raised her hand, making him flinch, but she only wiped at the shine gathering in her eyes. "I knew, before we were even a serious couple, that the Avatar would serve the world first, always._ I'm _the one who chose _Aang_, not the other way around! And, now..." she trailed off, scrunching her face as tears flowed down her cheeks. Zuko waited as she grabbed at composure, feeling as if he had just burned down a village. "Now, I have to deal with the consequences of my decision," she finished, her voice strong and rough.

Zuko could not keep the emotion out of his own voice. "Why? Why must you deal with this?"

"Because I would wait forever to be with the man I loved!"

Katara's declaration shivered in the air between them until Aang was a distant thought in each of their minds. Zuko's eyes were locked onto hers, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not look away. Conversely, Katara seemed to want nothing more than to stare, eyes wide and chest heaving, at the Firelord's unyielding face. "Forever?" Zuko repeated softly. "That's a long time, Sugar Queen."

More tears dripped down the waterbender's face at the use of the decade-old nickname. "And I would rather be kept waiting until the day I die than settle for anyone less," she answered thickly.

Zuko closed his eyes. "So would I."

Katara used her hands to crawl carefully to his side, her robes billowing and flowing along with her knees. She stopped with inches to spare, her voluminous sleeve just touching his own. "Then what are we waiting for, Zuko?" she whispered, and he knew exactly what she was asking. Her blue gaze touched different points of his face. Her breath moved the stray hair back between her eyes, and before she could lift a hand, he took it between his fingers.

"You and I both know this was never meant to be," Zuko said slowly. He wove the hair back into the pearl net with a tenderness that he had never thought possible, savoring the feel of the dark brown strands on his skin. "We're the moon and the sun, Katara; that's about as opposite as you can get."

"_Don't _turn this into a Fire versus Water question," Katar said, catching his hand between hers when he made to pull it from her hair. "Besides, the moon can't shine without the sun. Everybody knows that."

If he let her hold his hand so tightly, Zuko knew he wouldn't have the strength to let her go. "Arguments aside, you know we can't do this." When she opened her mouth he beat her to the chase. "I've caused Aang enough pain already," he said, gently dislodging his hand from her grasp.

The mention of her fiance made Katara closed her eyes. "I thought you said he was treating me dishonorably."

"He _is_," Zuko answered. "But _my_ honor's going to stay as intact as possible."

"Your honor." Katara leaned forward until he could count each thread of her robe. "There is nothing dishonorable in love, Zuko."

"You belong with Aang," he said, his control slipping. When he had received the message about her visit, this was what he had feared. She disrupted his every thought, like she had driven her spikes of ice into his mind, shattering it apart. "He loves you, Katara, and you love him-"

"I love him," Katara repeated. Then, in a whisper as if imparting a great secret: "But there are different kinds of love, Zuko."

Zuko wanted to say that he, above anyone else, knew that to be true. After all, Katara had never loved someone who had wanted nothing more than to kill her. She had never been forced to decide between the people she had loved first-family, flesh and blood-and the people she loved best-her only friends. The most discernment she had to make was which man she held closest to her heart. Either choice would suffice; each choice would come with its own conflict.

Lifting a hand, Zuko let it rest against her face. Katara stared at him, her lips parted and her eyes filled with a longing that mirrored his own.

Unfortunately for the both of them, the Firelord was all too adept at making sacrifices. "Choose Aang," Zuko said, letting his hand fall away. "He loves you in a way that I never could." And, without another word, he stood and bowed, leaving a heart-broken woman upon the grass.


End file.
